


The Edges of Life

by pookiestheone



Series: The Edges of Life / Heat [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:34:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pookiestheone/pseuds/pookiestheone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work has a sequel <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/757000">Heat</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas was always on the outside looking in. As a servant that wasn't unexpected. Standing behind a dining room table listening to conversations about people he didn't know or care about. Waiting in a room beside the decanter as he witnessed the little dramas that started and usually ended somewhere else. Speaking when spoken to. None of that required his involvement, just his presence. Downstairs among his own kind - _Really?_ \- things were not much different except there it was more his own choice. Aside from Sarah O'Brien, he didn't much care for any of them, except as recipients of his rancour. Thinking about it, he never much cared for O'Brien either. She had just helped him take care of people who got in his way until she turned the tables on him.

When it came to his own life, such as it was, he could count on one hand, four fingers actually, those who had meant anything, who had opened the door a small crack. Arthur Spencer, now long dead, The Duke of Crowborough for a few mad weeks. Edward Courtenay who left him before they had a chance. And....

"Mr Barrow?"

Jimmy Kent. Thomas looked up from his newspaper. He sat up straighter with a quiet groan, still sore from the beating if he moved the wrong way.

"Yes, Jimmy."

"Could I have a word?"

"Of course."

"Can we use Mr. Carson's office?"

Thomas frowned. What was so important that it couldn't be said here. The hall was empty since everyone else had gone to bed.

"All right."

He led the way, flipping on the light as he entered the room. As he turned, Jimmy was on him, crushing their lips together, pawing at his waistcoat buttons then ripping it and the shirt underneath apart. Thomas grunted as Jimmy's lips released his. He cried out as he bit his chest, raking his teeth down to his belly. His hands pulled his trousers from his hips so hard that he sent the buttons that held his suspenders flying. The suspenders themselves snapped over his head. Jimmy's mouth sucked him in ....

Thomas bolted upright in bed. _Jesus Christ!_

He grabbed his side as a stab of pain jolted him fully awake. _Fuck!_

He took a cigarette from his nightstand and gingerly climbed out of bed. The window was slightly ajar, but he opened it wide, inhaling the fragrance of the roses that clambered the wall on either side. He eased himself into the chair and lit up, exhaling a shaky cloud of smoke. He took a few more drags as he stared into the darkness.

Maybe having Jimmy as a friend wasn't such a good idea after all. _That's stupid. Friend or not I would have these dreams._ Still, having him sitting there the other day, just reading the newspaper, seemed more than he could have hoped for less than a week ago. So what if he had dreams. He could live with those no matter how impossible they were. Those were his own. No one could peek and pry or steal them back. Surely everyone dreamed about something that they couldn't have. He got up and stubbed out the cigarette on the stone window sill, then flicked it into the yard. Tomorrow would be his first day back; easy duties, no heavy lifting. Still he needed to be rested if he wasn't to fade away later in the day. He got back into bed, settling down with a sigh. He wasn't looking forward to the morning.

When Thomas walked into the servants' hall for breakfast, all conversation stopped. Most hadn't seen him since the day of the beating. Only Jimmy and, surprisingly, Alfred had visited. The women, of course, weren't allowed in the men's section of the servant's quarters. He had tried to make himself as presentable as possible, but it was hard to shave around the scabs and there was no way to hide his black eyes which now had developed a purplish-yellow tinge. He sat down opposite Jimmy, hoping everybody would just go back to talking. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Anna mention something about the weather which seemed to trigger everyone else. When Mr. Carson entered they jumped to their feet, except Thomas who rose unsteadily.

"Mr. Barrow, I know this is supposed to be your first day, but are you sure should you be here?"

_Carson is asking after my health? Are there two moons?_

"Yes, Mr. Carson. I think I'll be fine. Can't lie in bed forever."

"Very well."

Breakfast went as usual, except he could see the occasional concerned glance from others at the table. _I must look like shit if even Mosley notices._

After breakfast, Carson motioned Jimmy and Alfred into the hallway.

"I am not sure about Mr. Barrow. I will trust the two of you to keep an eye on him when you can."

"Yes, Mr Carson."

Try as they could, neither of them saw Thomas very much. At lunch, Jimmy noticed he looked drawn and pale, but at least he ate some of his meal. He determined to stay close just in case. Shortly after three, he found Thomas leaning against one of the second floor banisters.

"What's wrong, Mr. Barrow?"

"I moved some furniture for one the maids."

"That's not your job, it's mine or Alfred's She should have got one of us."

"I told her that I could manage."

"Well, that wasn't very bright of you."

Despite his obvious discomfort, Thomas laughed.

"I know that now. Where was that advice ten minutes ago."

Jimmy took him by the arm and led him to a nearby bench.

"I can't sit here. What if someone sees?"

"You bloody well can. Let me worry about that."

"Thanks. I'll only need a minute."

"I think you should tell Carson that you need to take the rest of the day."

"No. I have to show I can do the job."

Jimmy sounded doubtful.

"Fine. But do your own job, not mine. Promise me that."

"Yes, yes."

They were silent for a few minutes - Thomas on the bench, eyes closed, back and head resting against the wall; Jimmy standing in front of him. Jimmy began to wonder if he was asleep. He reached over and touched his shoulder.

"Thomas?"

"Hmmm. Yes."

His eyes opened and Jimmy was glad to see they were bright and alert.

"Do you need to stay longer?"

"No. I'm fine now."

When he stood he seemed to manage without hesitation. He smiled at Jimmy.

"See, right as rain. We can both go back to work."

"Yes, Mr. Barrow."

As he walked away, he looked back and saw that Thomas was indeed walking steadily in the other direction.

Once he was sure he was out of Jimmy's sight, he paused and leant against the wall, sweat beading his forehead. _That took more effort than I expected._ He was pretty sure that he hadn't done any damage, just irritated the existing injuries. But Jimmy was right, there was no use being a martyr. He would take it easy for the rest of the day. He pushed himself away from the wall. _And maybe a bit longer._

Jimmy watched Thomas at dinner. He moved his food around on his plate, but just ate some of the potatoes. Uncharacteristically he ignored the pudding entirely. When dinner was over he saw Thomas speak a few words to Carson who merely nodded. Carson stopped Jimmy before he left the room.

"Mr. Barrow has retired for the night. I believe you and Alfred should be able to handle what is left of the evening."

"Yes, Mr. Carson."

There was only the family to look after and happily they seemed to need little of that. Around ten, Jimmy headed to the kitchen.

"Daisy, do you have any of Mrs. Patmore's scones on the go? And a couple of cups of tea?"

"Scones, yes." She disappeared and came back with a plate of scones and a small bowl of butter. "The tea, can you make it yourself? The kettle's still hot. I want to get to bed."

"All right, off with you. I can manage."

He hummed to himself as he prepared the tea and found a tray. He put the pot of tea and everything else on the tray and made his way up the stairs. When he arrived at Thomas's door he tapped quietly.

"Mr. Barrow, are you awake?"

There was no answer. He debated whether to knock again and chance waking him or just go to his own room.

"Yes, Jimmy, come in."

Thomas was sitting in his armchair wearing just his undershirt and trousers, cigarette as usual in his hand.

"You didn't eat much at dinner so I brought us some scones and tea. I know how much you like Mrs. Patmore's scones."

He set the tray down on the small table by the window and turned to look at Thomas. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were red. He had obviously been crying. _Odd, I never thought of Thomas crying._

"I can't lose this job, you know. I haven't got anything else. I haven't got anyone else."

Jimmy pulled up the other chair.

"Why would you think you're going to lose your job?"

"If I can't do it."

"Thomas, that's nonsense. You came back too soon that's all. It's only been a few days. You should have asked Dr. Clarkson to say you weren't ready. No one's going to fire you because you got beat up."

Jimmy got up and poured them both a cup of tea, buttered the scones liberally, and sorted them onto two plates. As he passed Thomas his cup he saw how badly his hands shook.

"Here, have this. My mum used to say that there wasn't much that a good cup of tea couldn't fix."

He handed Thomas his scones.

"And of course, Mrs. Patmore's scones."

Thomas hadn't realised how hungry he was until he took his first bite. _Bless you, Mrs. Patmore._ By the time he had polished off the third one and his second cup of tea he had to agree with Jimmy's mother. He leaned back and let out an unexpected burp.

"Mr. Barrow!"

Thomas frowned.

"You've been switching between Thomas and Mr. Barrow a lot. We can't have that."

Jimmy looked chastened and a bit taken aback.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barrow. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"That's not my point, you dolt. If we're to be friends, you can't call me Mr. Barrow all the time. It makes me uncomfortable somehow. Call me Thomas, but let's agree that you really can't do it when others are around. I wish it were different, but we both know it can't be."

Jimmy nodded.

"You're right. I'm just glad you think I deserve to."

Thomas tilted his head to one side, giving Jimmy a questioning look.

Jimmy was too busy with his own thoughts to notice. _What did he mean by he didn't have anyone else?_

  



	2. Chapter 2

Thomas got better over the next several days. He kept away from anything strenuous and his strength started to return, but he still went up to his room early. Each night Jimmy would come by with tea and usually something from Mrs. Patmore. He was sure he had managed to sweet talk her into making things just for them. They gradually began to learn more about each other. Thomas knew that there was still some wariness on Jimmy's part which was understandable.

Jimmy sat playing with the crumbs on his plate. Thomas had come to know that when he was nervous he did little things like that.

"A penny for your thoughts."

Jimmy looked up and smiled.

"Oh, they're not worth that much."

"Why not let me be the judge of that?"

He noticed Jimmy squirm in his chair as if he were battling with himself about what to say next.

"Can I ask you something."

"Sure. As long as it's not for the last biscuit."

He grabbed it from the plate and stuffed it whole into his mouth.

"Ok, I don't think I would want to rescue it from there anyway."

He blushed, realising how Thomas might take that.

Thomas coughed, sending bits of biscuit spraying into the air. He took a quick sip of tea.

"Yes, perhaps that's not a good idea."

He could see Jimmy chewing at the side of his lip.

"But since we're on the subject ...."

Thomas tensed and tried to push himself through the back of the chair. _What? Wait. How did this happen?_

"I was wondering ...." _Christ, Kent, out with it before you piss yourself._

"I was wondering about that night when you ...."

Thomas cut him off.

"When I barged into your room and kissed you."

Jimmy blushed even deeper.

"Yeah."

Thomas thought for a moment. He wasn't sure why this had taken him by surprise. It was the one thing they had danced around for over a year. Jimmy had never given him a chance to try to apologise, even if he had remembered how to. His disdain and disparaging remarks made it obvious that he was beneath contempt. Until the beating, he never let him within ten feet unless his work required it. Then he escaped as soon as possible with his face looking, at least to Thomas, like he had eaten a lemon. Maybe tonight he would let him try to explain. He got up to light another cigarette and pulled a bottle of scotch from his bottom drawer. _I'm going to need this._ He emptied the dregs of his tea back into the pot and poured himself a half cup of liquor.

"Want some?"

Jimmy shook his head.

Thomas drank most of the cup. _Trust my boyo, you probably will._

"So, what do you want to know about that night?"

"Was it something I did that made you think ...."

"That you were foul."

"No. That I was like you."

That wasn't quite the question Thomas had been expecting, but it was a start. Jimmy reached his cup forward.

"I've changed my mind."

"Thought you might."

"It wasn't you and, believe it or not, it wasn't all me. O'Brien had me believing you felt for me the same was as I did for you. That there was  could be - something between us. You didn't seem to mind when I touched you; you didn't pull away or ask me to stop. So I just assumed ...."

He drained his cup and poured another.

"I just assumed you were interested. I didn't ask because it's not something you do when you're like me. You go by instinct I guess. And above all else hope. Hope can make you do stupid things though." _Like trying to kiss someone without asking._

Jimmy started to laugh.

"Shut up, Jimmy. It's not funny. This is my life we're talking about."

"No. No. It's not that."

He reached out and grabbed his hand before realising it. Thomas pulled away.

"Don't do that."

"Sorry."

He drank most of his cup and shook it at Thomas for a refill before continuing.

"I was laughing because O'Brien caught me in her web too. She told me that if I wanted to get on here I had to keep on your good side no matter what. I was supposed to ignore the things you were doing and not mention it to anyone because you could ruin my chances."

"But you tried to get me fired without a reference."

"She said if I didn't do something like that people would think I was ...."

"Like me?"

"Yes."

"Why that conniving old bitch. Damn, she's good."

"Huh?"

"Well, you have to admit she had us both twisted around her little finger. She knows how to spot a weakness and use it to eventually go in for the kill."

"I'm not weak!"

"No, but you're ambitious. She saw that and knew exactly how to use it."

"And you?"

Thomas sighed and looked down at his cup. Maybe it was the scotch, maybe it was the still-unresolved tension between them, but something had made Thomas's tongue much looser than it should have been.

"Me? I told you it's all about hope. She knows me, knows too much really. I desperately want a bit of happiness. I thought you were my chance of being able to find love again rather than drifting around the edges of life."

Jimmy nodded. It was a pretty good description of his own existence. Except for the love part. He finished his scotch and reached out for a refill; he didn't think that he could talk about that now so he quickly switched the topic.

"It wasn't all bad. You got to be under-butler, I'm first footman and I hear O'Brien is soon off looking for other prey."

"And I got the shit kicked out of me."

"I didn't say there weren't any drawbacks. But I got to kiss you." _Where did that come from?_

Thomas wasn't exactly sure what he had heard.

"What?"

"I had to kiss you."

"Yes, well you're the first to complain. Then again, it was against your will. You really have to believe me when I tell you how sorry I am for that. If I could take it back I would."

"Hmmm."

Jimmy knocked back the rest of his scotch.

"So, it's nothing I did?"

"Didn't we go over this already? Jimmy, your virtue is safe from me, if that's what's worrying you." _At least while I'm awake._

Jimmy held out his cup again. Thomas remembered what he had been like when he got drunk at the fair.

"I don't think you should have any more. You're going to be sorry tomorrow."

"Don't tell me what to do, Thomas."

"All right."

Thomas's pained look made Jimmy regret it immediately.

"It's just that everyone tells me what to do, how to act, what to feel."

Thomas's look turned to one of puzzlement.

"You're in service. What do you expect? But no one can tell you what to feel."

"They tell you, don't they? You shouldn't feel about men the way you do."

_Good point._

"Why don't you listen? Why don't you just stop?"

"Are you really that naïve? Do you think it's that simple?"

Things were a bit hazy for Jimmy, but not hazy enough that he didn't know what he was doing. He wanted to understand and sometimes the only way to do that was to be blunt.

"Yeah. Just stop putting your cock where it doesn't belong."

If he hadn't been drinking he probably wouldn't have misjudged the situation so badly.

Thomas tried to remember that he was drunk, but that was uncalled for. He drew back and slapped him hard across the face, almost knocking him off the chair, sending the empty cup he was holding to the rug. Jimmy just looked at him, eyes blinking in shock.

Thomas's voice was quiet and seething with menace.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that. You know nothing. Do you think it's just about sex? Well it's not. Maybe that's all you would want. If so I pity the girl."

"But I ...."

Thomas stood up, towering over him, fists clenched. He still didn't raise his voice.

"Get out."

When he didn't move, he grabbed him roughly by the arm and pushed him toward the door.

"Get out!"

He opened the door and shoved him. So much like another night except Jimmy was the one in the hallway feeling abandoned.

Thomas sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands for a moment before running them through his hair and getting up. He recovered the unbroken cup and placed it neatly on the tray with everything else. _So much for that friendship._

  



	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Daisy was the first to notice Jimmy's face.

"Are you trying to look like Mr. Barrow?"

Thomas looked up and saw the slight bruising under Jimmy's eye. _I didn't mean to hit him that hard_.

"Daisy, don't you know no one can look as good as me with a black eye."

That brought laughs from some at the table and drew attention away from Jimmy who nodded in appreciation. Thomas ignored him. After escaping the hall without being noticed by Carson and having to explain what happened, Jimmy went in search of Thomas but couldn't find him before he had to get back to his own work. He saw him at lunch and after a few minutes followed him into the yard where he found him smoking.

"Mr. Barrow."

"Not now Jimmy."

Thomas got up to move, but Jimmy grabbed his arm.

"Thomas, please."

"Take your hand off me."

He strode across the yard and into the deserted open area beyond, but he couldn't get away from him.

"You should go back to work."

"I have as much time as you do."

"Then you should spend it somewhere else."

"Wait. You said you didn't have anyone else. What did you mean?"

_Yes, of course. Of everything they had said, those were the words he would remember_.

"You wouldn't understand."

"You don't know that."

"You think that all I want is to stick my cock where it doesn't belong."

Jimmy looked down at his shoes awkwardly. _I deserved that._

"Well then, make me understand."

"No."

He pushed past Jimmy, heading back to the house.

"It's not like I've never done anything, you know."

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks. _What?_ He spun around. Jimmy looked a bit like a petulant child.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better."

"No. It's supposed to make me feel better."

"Hard as this may be for you to hear, it's not always about you Jimmy."

Jimmy was almost crying.

"Fuck you, Thomas. That's the point. It's never about me and what I want. No wonder you're alone."

The punch caught Jimmy square on the jaw, sending him backward a few steps before he collapsed.

Thomas was stunned. _Shit! What have I done?_ He knelt down beside him, gently shaking his shoulders. _Why do I keep hitting him?_ He almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded.

"Jimmy. Jimmy. I'm sorry. Oh God, wake up."

His eyes opened and he tried to focus. Thomas was ready in case he struck back.

"Christ. That felt like you've got your strength back all right."

"What is going on here?"

Thomas stood up so quickly he almost fell on top of Jimmy. _Carson, bloody Carson. That man is everywhere. He'll probably be waiting with St. Peter for me_.

"Uh ...."

"Yes?"

Jimmy came to the rescue as he sat up.

"I tripped."

"Backwards?"

"No. I had just turned over and Thomas was going to help me up once he knew I was OK."

"Indeed." _They'll be the death of me._ "Is that correct, Thomas?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson."

As if to prove the point, he reached down and grabbed Jimmy by the arm, hoisting him to his feet.

Carson glowered at them both.

"James, you had better go change before you come back. Thomas, look after that gash on his chin." He spun on his heel and headed back to the house.

The punch seemed to have cleared the air.

"You really can't keep doing this, Thomas. I depend on my looks to get by."

"Oh shut up and let me see your chin."

He held his jaw, tilting it side to side to make sure there was only the one cut.

"Oi! Easy, someone just punched me, you know."

Thomas's fingers became gentle as he felt his chin and jaw line for injury. Suddenly he realised what it might seem he was doing and pulled away.

"Looks fine. You'll probably be sore though. I'll just need to clean the cut and put on a plaster."

They started back to the house.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I probably deserved it. Sometimes I say things I shouldn't, but it only seems to happen around you."

Thomas took hold of his arm, pulling him to a stop.

"Listen, can we call a truce? Things have been said and done that we both regret. I really do want us to be friends. If that's even possible now."

"It is. But we still have talk about most of those same things. Can you do that without hitting me again?"

Thomas chuckled.

"But you make it so tempting." _We're back to normal. But that's not necessarily good._

At the dinner table it was Alfred's turn to tease Jimmy.

"Are you planning on becoming a boxer instead of a footman? Wouldn't advise it if your face is an example of your skills."

"Bugger off, Alfred."

"I beg your pardon, James."

Everyone stood up.

"I was just explaining to Alfred that I fell, Mr. Carson."

Across the table Thomas was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

Carson sat down and the rest followed suit.

"Yes, it appears you have been quite clumsy today."

Thomas snorted and not very quietly.

"Thomas, do you find James's misfortune funny?"

"No, Mr Carson."

"Very well then."

He almost yearned for the days when they barely spoke. _Who needs children now that I have these two._

After dinner Jimmy caught up with Thomas in the main entrance.

"It looks like we'll be finished early. Can I come by tonight? I just wasn't sure."

"I think you better."

About nine Jimmy wandered into the kitchen to make his usual pot of tea.

"What have you got for us tonight Mrs. Patmore?"

"Why is it always you and not Thomas?"

"Because my day wouldn't be complete if I didn't see you before I went to bed."

She handed him a plate of sugar biscuits.

"You better watch all these late night cookies and scones or the both of you will be having to let out your trousers. Now away with you and your blather."

Jimmy loaded the tray.

"It's not every night," he replied, feigning indignation. _Am I getting fat? Thomas won't like that. What?_ "And it's not blather when you mean it."

"Cheeky beggar!"

He could hear her still laughing half way up the stairs.

Thomas sat waiting for Jimmy. There was so much to talk about, so much to explain for both of them. But with all that came the pitfalls. Too much truth too soon could be as bad as lies. They had to start somewhere, though. It was just a matter of not letting things get out of hand; so absolutely no scotch. He needed this friendship to work. A year ago he wanted much more and he still wouldn't turn that down if it were on the table. But despite what Jimmy had said about doing something  _I assume he meant with another man? Maybe not?_ \- he didn't really think that was a possibility.

Now he would be happy with someone who would just listen, not having to hide behind a mask of indifference. It wasn't much, but after all these years life had finally taught him that you take what comes your way. If you let it slip by, hoping for something better, you were a fool. He heard Jimmy at the door and got up to clear a few books off the table.

"Sugar biscuits and tea. Will that do tonight, M'Lord?"

"I think it's the company that matters."

Jimmy flashed him a smile as he set the tray down.

"That and the conversation." _I hope I'm ready_.

Jimmy handed him his tea and he sat down.

"I suppose that's what tonight is really about. Unfinished conversations. We can't avoid them."

"If we do, doesn't that leave us back where we started? Floundering around in a friendship that neither of us can figure out until it just withers away."

Thomas stared into his cup as if he hoped to find answers there.

"You're right of course. I asked you to be my friend. I can't expect you to be that if you don't understand me. That's really all you asked for. But you have to remember it has to go both ways. _That's what you want isn't it? Not just about me._ You're a mystery, Jimmy. Out of nowhere you make a statement like the one this afternoon and I don't know where I am."

He paused seemingly to take a sip of tea, but in fact just to be sure he wanted to go on.

"Oh well, in for a penny ...."

  



	4. Chapter 4

"So what do you think it means to be 'like me'." _I might as well grab the bull by the balls. Just need to watch out for the kick._

Jimmy's answer seemed defensive.

"I already told you. Doing things with men."

"And you still want to understand?"

"Yeah."

"You must know what those things are."

"Yes. Most of them I guess."

Jimmy reddened as he busied himself trying to find a biscuit he liked.

"So if you want to understand, you have to think it's just not that."

"I guess, but that's still where it all starts."

"Not really. That's where it leads and, if you're lucky, not where it ends."

"Have you been lucky?"

"I thought I was a couple of times - _What's he trying to do?_ \- but not really."

"Who?"

"All before your time. Besides you wouldn't know any of them."

"Very many"

"No."

Jimmy wanted to follow up on that, but thought better of it.

"So, what did you want if not just, uh, sex."

"I told you, the same as anyone. Acceptance, happiness, love."

"You see, that's the part I don't understand. How can you love another man? Just doesn't make sense."

"Why?"

"Men are supposed to love women, not other men."

"And yet you just heard me say it's not always the case."

Jimmy still seemed puzzled.

"All right, let's try another way. Think of the last girl you fell in love with."

"I never have."

"What?"

Jimmy clenched his fingers together, almost as if he were praying.

"I never have."

Thomas leaned back in his chair. That was impossible. Jimmy the flirt. That face, that body. Then he realised the problem. He was seeing what everyone else saw and assuming that what lay beneath was just as perfect. He had known that wasn't the case almost from the beginning, but chose to ignore it except that one night in the servants' hall. Jimmy was just as alone as he was and nobody seemed to notice because .... well, because he was Jimmy. And Jimmy couldn't have any problems.

"Is that what you meant when you said it was never about you? It wasn't about your confession, was it. _I still want to know about that._ It was that this  whatever this is we have  is important to you. That I'm important to you? That's it, isn't it. Because as an outcast, I'm the only one you thought  might listen and I haven't."

As he started to laugh he could see the pleading in Jimmy's eyes.

"Don't do that."

"Damn it, Jimmy. I can't read your mind. I can only listen if you fucking say something. You've been asking questions, but you've hardly volunteered anything."

"I've tried. I just did now."

"But after how long? Was that the point of that little admission about doing something? To make it sound like we had that in common."

"No."

He still didn't elaborate.

Thomas threw caution to the wind. _To hell with too much truth too soon. This is getting us nowhere._

"So, you're a virgin."

"I didn't say that. I just said I had never been in love."

"Then how do you know I can't love another man?"

"You're not supposed to."

"You're giving me a headache. We're going in circles and we're still really just talking about me. Think of something to tell me, and not just in two or three words, or we might as well stop now. Or are you too afraid?"

Jimmy bristled, looking like that petulant child again.

"I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid of anything."

"Yes you are. You're afraid of yourself. All this talk about what you're supposed to do, who you're supposed to love, about people telling you how to feel is just that."

Jimmy looked like he had been slapped again.

"Got any of that scotch left?"

"No. And I still haven't heard fuck all about you."

"You know I've never been in love and I'm not a virgin."

"Still not enough. Don't bitch about me not listening when that's all you have."

Jimmy buried his face in his hands. _This is a bad idea, but I don't think I can go on like this much longer._ He looked up and directly into Thomas's eyes.

"All right, maybe I am afraid of the things I don't understand about myself, but I'm more afraid of you because you're the cause. I know you still feel the same way about me as you always have."

Thomas started to interrupt, but Jimmy waved him away.

"Don't try to deny it. You may think you're a good liar, Thomas, but sometimes you fail miserably. You wanted me to talk, so let me."

He got up and started to pace.

"There isn't much difference between us. I don't have anyone either, except in my case I never have had. I don't know what's wrong with me and I don't know how to fix it. I watch Alfred chasing after Ivy and I wish I could be like that about someone, even if I get nothing in return. I know how Ivy feels about me and so many others before her. And then there's you. You confuse the hell out of me. Why do you think I seemed to hate you for so long? Didn't you think it was a bit much?"

"I just thought what I had done was beyond the pale."

"It was. Or it was supposed to be. There's that word again  supposed. I had never been kissed by a man. I sort of woke up, you know. I mean before Alfred burst through the door. I had no idea it was you but I could just taste your lips and it felt right. But it shouldn't have been. I couldn't be like that. It was your fault, not mine, so I had to push you away. Then you had to ride in like knight on a charger to protect me. No one's ever done anything like that for me before. I've always had to look after myself.

"At first I thought that friendship was all I wanted, all you deserved, but I was fooling myself. Did you really think all this tea and these late nights were just about friendship? Maybe that's how it started out, but the more we were together the more it made me realise that I had been denying for a year what I felt that night. Things kept creeping into my mind that didn't belong. Why do you think I have all these questions about love? Maybe that's what it is, but I don't know. I want you to help me find out if it's possible. And tell me it's not wrong."

He sat down. Thomas could see him shaking as he tried to pour himself some more tea. It was cold and undrinkable, but he knew Jimmy had to do something. Again he was going to ask about what he had done before, but that seemed trivial now. He stood up and reached out to him.

"Put down the cup and give me your hands."

He lifted him from the chair and leaned in until their foreheads touched. Jimmy pulled away slightly.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure I trust myself."

"I told you that sex isn't where it starts. We can do as much or as little as you want, when you want. There's no rush. For now we won't do anything. Except this."

He reached up and touched his cheek.

"Don't close your eyes. Watch mine."

He lightly traced tiny circles across his cheek and down to his chin before sliding his finger up to touch his lips, caressing them. Jimmy's mouth open in a deep sigh. Thomas moved from his lips to his other cheek, then down along his jaw line, finally gently feathering up and down his throat. He leaned in again, this time until their lips almost touched, and let his tongue retrace his finger.

"What do you feel now?"

Even though Jimmy's eyes had never left his, it was as if he had fallen into a trance.

"I .... uh ...."

"It's a promise. A promise that you won't be alone, that if you want to know about love you'll find the answer with me. How could that ever be wrong."

When they finally kissed Jimmy knew it was a possible.

~~ End ~~

  



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